Saturday, January 10, 2009

As Rick headed out with his last load, Katherine stood and walked through the house for the last time, the ghosts of the past trailing behind her. Some of her friends had told her she should take Brian to the cleaners, get the house and everything in it, but she had settled for a quick divorce. He had moved into a hotel during the three months required to be considered separated to push the proceedings forward. This morning they had signed the last of the paperwork. In the eyes of the courts, and everyone else, their relationship was officially over. But standing there in the house, she could feel the memories pressing in on her.

Brushing at a tear that had escaped, she wondered just how trapped he had felt the last few months. Certainly she had felt it for a while, and given they hadn’t slept together in the same room in more than two months, she wondered why she hadn’t filed sooner. She had thought about it frequently, but always put it down that he needed her. Maybe it was her fault.

Signing softly, she trailed a finger over the faint coating of dust that had accumulated on the banister in the last few days. The house did hold some good memories. Brian carrying her up the stairs on their anniversary, their first night in their own home. One afternoon when he had been out of town for a few days, and he came home early, they had made love in the entryway. The long dinners, where they had sat and talked for hours. The bubble-baths together.

Each step easier to take than the last, she climbed the stair case and walked down the hall, until she stood in the bedroom doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, she stood there in silence and let the tears win. As the heat of them trailed down her cheeks, rolling along the line of her jaw until they landed with a wet splash against her shirt, she remembered the good and the bad times.

Being chased around the room until he tumbled them both onto the bed, where they had screwed each other senseless.

The sight of him on top of some nameless blonde, his lean hips pumping as he groaned out his ecstasy. His drinking himself senseless and stumbling to bed.

A throat clearing behind her had her jerking away from the doorway and turning. Rick stood near the top of the stairs, a hesitant look on his face. “I didn’t want to bother you, but you’ve been standing there almost a half hour, and I started to get worried.”

As his gaze flowed over her face, his eyes darkened and he climbed the last few steps. His hands cupped her cheeks, and calloused thumbs brushed the tear stains from them.

Grabbing a pillow from his cot, Irdun flung it at the door. Smirking, Vana ducked away, then stuck out her tongue. “Stop calling him that,” he told her.

Moments later, heavy footfalls trod the stairs outside, and within a heartbeat Thissol stood in the doorway—dark, delectable, and with the most piercing green-gray eyes Irdun had ever seen. “I’m glad you have time,” said the jewel smith.

“Business isn’t so good these days.” Irdun motioned to the cracked plaster along the walls and ceiling. Bits of blue and yellow fresco littered the floor, leaving voids in an image Irdun had liked: irises waving in a field. Constant earth tremors were slowly, inexorably ruining all that was beautiful about the house. “Otherwise you’d never see me at all.”

Thissol crossed the floor in three great strides, seized him around the waist, and pulled him up into a long, deep kiss. He’s already hard, thought Irdun, but so was he. Of all the lovers he had ever had, only the jewel smith with his rough hands could make him instantly erect with just a touch, a look of his eye, or the sound of his voice. Thissol could make him crave sex where he had grown bored with it.

During more practical moments of reflection, he made a correction. Client, you fool. The jewel smith is a client. Lovers don’t pay for a fuck, and only the very foolish fall in love with whores.

Lips fastened on the column of his throat, raising marks on his flesh and sending a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. “I come just thinking about you,” growled Thissol, “whether I’m here or not.”

How many times had Irdun heard that one before? Actually, never, just a hundred variations on the same theme: You make me so hard. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—until the men came, spurting into his mouth or shoving their cocks up his ass. Only Thissol continued the charade after his pleasure was done. “Then you should save your money.”

Percival wasn’t doing well with his studies. His father had invested a fortune in various tutors, and until the new one arrived he’d fared all right. Now, however, he was one season shy of being shipped off to University, and he couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything.

The problem was Mr. Thatcher, that everyone could agree on. Of course, Percy knew it wasn’t because he was a poor tutor. He came highly recommended. The problem was that he was simply the most handsome man Percy had ever laid eyes on. Of course, he hadn’t seen very many men, other than the elderly servants that inhabited Castle Elgin, and the occasional boy from town. But they were nothing like Mr. Thatcher. He was tall, and...large. All over.

When Mr. Thatcher stood in the classroom, Percy had a difficult time doing more than gazing adoringly at the man. Percy knew he had to make more of an effort, although he wasn’t sure how he could manage it. He tried to read his texts when the tutor wasn’t around, but as soon as Thatcher returned, the questions he had flew right out of his head.

“My lord?” Mr. Thatcher said patiently. “Would you like me to repeat it?” He stood before a small blackboard covered with writing.

Percy sighed. “Yes, would you please, Mr. Thatcher? Something about the Crimean War, was it?” His gaze stole down the length of the other man’s body before snapping back up to his face with a faint blush.

The teacher frowned and set the chalk down, brushing the dust onto his trousers before approaching Percy. He stopped in front of the desk and looked down with evident concern. “My lord. Are you unwell? You look flushed. Shall I fetch a doctor?”

Percy stared at the tutor’s crotch, enticingly at eye level, then looked up slowly. “I, I’m quite well, Mr. Thatcher. I,” He bit his lip. “My apologies. I am only distracted. I shall try harder.” He swallowed audibly. Clearly the poor man had no clue about the effect he had. Percy had half a mind to tell him precisely what distracted him.

The tutor leaned down and put his hand on Percy’s shoulder. “If you are having some sort of personal issue, my lord,” he said softly, “I am not much older than you, and I do understand the distractions of a man your age. If there is anything I can do to help...”

Percy’s eyes widened. “Pardon me, Mr. Thatcher, but I really don’t think you would understand my problems.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Have you ever studied the Greeks?” he asked, feeling reckless.

“Extensively,” the teacher answered, pulling up a chair to sit next to Percy. “What does that have to do with your problems, my lord?”

The man was either impossibly innocent or deliberately discounting what he was saying to save his potential reputation as a peer of the realm. “I suppose you know, then, that they preferred the company of other men to women,” he said, being as obvious as he could. “Unfortunately, such sensibilities are frowned upon these days.” He pouted slightly.

After a moment’s hesitation, the teacher finally spoke. “Though they are frowned upon, those sensibilities have not altogether ceased to exist.” He raised his eyes to Percy’s.

Percy had to smirk at that. “No indeed, as I am here to attest,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So you can see my difficulty. I do hope you’re not offended, but I would likely be better at my studies if you were not so...” He looked his tutor up and down slowly. “Young and healthy. And male.” He held out little hope that the older man shared his predilections. He was used to people being patient with him, no matter how outrageous he was.

The teacher smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You would prefer a tutor who was old and decrepit?” he asked, leaning closer. “Perhaps he would still be attracted to you, however. For you are quite lovely to behold.”

Percy blinked. “I would undoubtedly be less distracted with such a tutor, though I wouldn’t say that would be my preference.” He started to see a glimmer of hope. He smoothed his thick hair down. “Lovely? Do you really think so?”

“I would never say such a thing were it not true,” the older man said, licking his lips. He looked around. “I wonder if we are truly alone,” he breathed.

Percy glanced at the door. “No one ever comes up here, but the ghost and us,” he said. He turned back to his tutor with a coy smile. “We can lock it, though, if you are concerned.”

“The ghost?” Mr. Thatcher asked in surprise.

Percy got up and walked over to the door, turning the lock. “It’s nothing. It’s just a legend,” he said quickly. He returned to his desk, sitting on the edge of it, gazing into his tutor’s eyes. “Now, you were wondering if we were alone?”

The teacher sat back in his chair, looking up at Percy. “Perhaps you should come here, my lord. And tell me what it is about me you find so distracting.”

Percy approached him slowly, letting his hips sway. His heart pounded. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He moved closer. “Well,” he said, licking his lips. “Where to begin? You’re tall. Handsome...”

The teacher beckoned him closer. “Go on, pretty lord,” he whispered. “What did you think you wanted to do with me?”

Mr. Thatcher’s lap seemed to call to him. He lingered for a moment before closing the distance. He settled himself on the man’s lap. “I don’t know. What did you think I could get you to do to me?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t really know what he was asking, but he wanted to know.

Moaning softly, the teacher suggested, “Perhaps a kiss to begin, my lord? If I could be so forward...”

It was all Percy could do not to gasp at the feeling of his tutor’s stiff cock against his thigh. He didn’t want to seem completely unsophisticated. He leaned against Mr. Thatcher’s chest, turning his head to stare into his eyes. “That sounds lovely,” he said.

The teacher slid one hand into Percy’s shoulder-length, wavy hair and pulled his mouth to his. He pressed his lips gently against Percy’s. Percy’s eyes drifted closed and he kissed back. He was prepared to do anything with the handsome man. His hands rested lightly on his broad chest. He didn’t know quite all that was involved, but he had an idea. He wriggled in his lap, rubbing against him.

Mr. Thatcher leaned into the kiss, his free hand coming up to rest on Percy’s thigh. His lips parted against the boy’s. Percy followed his lead, parting his own lips. That such a handsome man would understand, and appreciate the same things, was awe-inspiring to him. His hands moved slowly around the tutor’s neck.

The teacher’s hand moved up Percy’s thigh, slowly, as he parted the boy’s lips with his tongue. Percy was painfully aroused at this point. He opened his mouth further, touching Mr. Thatcher’s tongue with his own. His knees slid farther apart, inviting the scandalous touch. The teacher stroked his tongue against Percy’s, and his hand slipped higher. His thumb stroked upward, seeking the hot bulge in the boy’s trousers.

Percy sucked in a sharp breath. He pulled back from the searing kiss, panting hard. “Well, I suppose you do understand, then,” he whispered. He could see he had much to learn from this gorgeous man, and he wanted it all. “I much prefer these lessons.” He kissed him again, threading his fingers into Mr. Thatcher’s hair. The teacher kissed back more forcefully, hands sliding around to Percy’s firm buttocks. He squeezed them with his large hand, plundering the boy’s mouth thoroughly.

Percy whimpered and shifted around on the larger man’s lap until he straddled it, facing him. He moved as closely to him as he could, encouraging his touches. He was nearly frantic for him now.

Mr. Thatcher’s hands were on Percy’s ass now, and they ground together as they kissed. Two hard cocks rubbed together through trousers, and the older man pulled back. “My lord, have you ever...”

Percy had to pause a moment to decide what to say. Ultimately, he thought that it would be painfully obvious. “No,” he murmured, nuzzling Mr. Thatcher’s cheek. “But I want to. Please?”

That made the older man groan. “I don’t mean to deny you anything, my pretty lord,” he purred, one hand slipping under Percy’s shirt. “I just wanted to be certain.”

“You can call me Percy.” He shrugged off his coat and started unknotting his tie. “Under the circumstances,” he said, his lips twitching. His hips rocked , forcing a moan from his throat.

The teacher raised an eyebrow. “In that case you must call me William.”

Cyn watched silently as a massive male form crossed the room to the wardrobe and jerked at his clothing. It was clear he was upset about something. She heard words about his mother, some curses, marriage, and then more curses. He was so involved with his thoughts he’d not seen her lying on his bed.

The man shifted closer to the fire and the light illuminated his body. His shirt was the first to go, and Cyn had to clamp her lips together, concealing her gasp. With the mood the man was in, she wasn’t sure he’d welcome her unexpected presence. The muscles in his back and arms rippled as he bent to remove his boots. His position gave her the perfect view of his backside with his pants hugging the curves of it tightly. Once he slipped out of his pants and was completely nude, he turned to crawl into bed, but froze.

Cyn’s lips parted in surprise as this magnificent creature stood naked before her. Never had she seen a man completely without clothing, so to see this stranger, his thick dick hanging between his legs, sent a shudder through her body. Her heartbeat quickened and she felt a little lightheaded.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest, not at all trying to conceal his nakedness. In fact, as his gaze narrowed on her, she was sure he didn’t have an ounce of modesty or shame over his body.

Cyn’s mouth opened to speak, but the words died in her throat. His masculine beauty had rendered her speechless. She tried again, seeing the impatience in his eyes. She didn’t want him to throw her out before she could say a word.

“And why is it that you lay upon my bed?” His voice was cold even as his gaze wandered her exposed body.

“I’m here to pleasure you, m’lord.” Cyn sat up and gave what she hoped was a gentle, yet sexy smile. Though she had her doubts she could actually go through with this, she was not about to give up her one chance to fulfill a fantasy. No, she wouldn’t give up too quickly, no matter the distrust that gleamed in his eyes.

Trevor stepped closer, his arms lowering to his sides. “What makes you think I need pleasure on this night?” His voice had softened at her smile.

“All men crave pleasure, m’lord. But from the way you made your entrance, I feel you are in great need of release.” Cyn’s voice was as smooth as silk as she slipped into the role of a seductress. She practically purred at him and was surprised at how natural this suddenly felt. Could this really be her saying these things?

* * * *

The corner of Trevor’s mouth twitched as he studied this woman. Actually, it was more than his mouth that she made twitch. Her radiance vibrated in the air, and though she moved gracefully and surely, he sensed she was more innocent than she looked.

“Who was it that sent you my way, kitten?”

Cynderella moved so that she was on her hands and knees, facing Trevor. A perfect view of her breasts, plump and tempting. “No one, m’lord. I came of my own free will.”

Trevor found himself at the foot of his bed, not remembering taking the steps to get there. He felt drawn to her, his body reacting to her mere presence. The urge to touch her, smell her, taste her overpowered. His mind screamed of a bewitching, but his body refused to listen. What was it about this strange woman that held him so captivated? He hesitated only a moment at the thought of trickery. Was this something his mother set up? A way to trick him into marriage? Looking down at the beauty, his thoughts fled as primal lust invaded his body.

Trevor kneeled on the bed in front of her. She lifted and kneeled also. He brushed his hand through her long, thick locks and sighed at the softness. He watched as her lips parted slightly and looked into her darkening eyes. The reflecting fire made it look as if the flames consumed them, making her mysterious and desirable.

“You have beautiful hair. Where are you from?” He’d not seen hair this pleasing in a long time. He’d spent the last five years traveling foreign lands. He’d gone to nations of great wealth and realms that held the lowest of scum. Women threw themselves at him when they realized he was a crowned prince, but he brushed them aside. Every single one. He was not interested in being trapped into marriage. There had been women of all sorts, but none that could ever compare to the woman kneeling before him. None who allowed their hair to flow loosely over their shoulders and backs. No, it was only proper to bind their tresses tightly from their face, then yell if anyone should mess so much as a strand of hair.

“M’lord, I shant tell my secrets tonight. This night is to be for you and your pleasure.” She tried to distract him from asking any more questions of her.

Trevor smiled at her words.

“Well then, kitten, if that is true, you may drop the m’lord and call me Trevor.”

Get the App!

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

All material posted on this blog is the intellectual property of the author and, as such, protected by both national and international copyright laws.
All rights reserved.
No part of this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.